


Similar

by lar_laughs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SGOC Gift Giving, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-11
Updated: 2010-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the middle of Season 4.  Ronon has spent a long time just getting to know Lorne.  Now he finds himself drawn to the man as he lays dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Similar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ru_salki99](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ru_salki99).



They connected because of their over-use of the Infirmary. Rumors had abounded when the new female doctor came to Atlantis that there was a rise in the number of injuries but that just wasn't true. There had always been a lot of people who found themselves in need of first aid and Beckett's sick bay had been just as full as the current one.

It was true that Ronon found himself bleeding more often of late and the bruising his body was endearing was at an all-time high. The new doctor had nothing to do with it, although he found himself drawn to her but only to see how she was like Melena. The two were not alike and he found himself growing comfortable with the new addition to the city as if she were a needed item to his life, like a pair of shoes or a well-sharpened knife.

That was not to say that he found himself drawn to the infirmary because of the doctor, though. Comfortable was a hell of a lot different than what he felt at the moment. The away team was due back at any time, sure to have wounded. This would be their first stop. Lorne would be here, either as a patient or to make sure that his team would be able to be patched up without incident.

Ronon flinched as Jennifer finished up the last of the stitches on his cheek. It had taken three different men a good forty minutes before any of them drew blood, a sure sign that he was losing his touch. Perhaps he needed to find something else that he had in common with Major Lorne; something that wasn't quite so bloody.

"I'm almost done here. Then I want you-" but Jennifer was never able to finish her never-ending instructions that he always took with a grain of salt because he knew she meant well. Her attention was drawn to the doorway where his own eyes were riveted. Out in the hall there was yelling and then an explosion of sound announced the away team better than any trumpet.

He stayed where he was, content to see how the drama in front of him played out. The drone of voices washed around him as he searched for the only one he cared to listen to. When he didn't see Lorne in the group of faces standing just outside the entrance to sick bay, Ronon grew concerned. They were all trying to explain the situation all at the same time, vying for John's attention as he walked into the room.

"We've got a situation." Those were words that Ronon had heard on multiple occasions but then John did like to find the drama in everything. He couldn't really mean it. Not this time. Not with this team that seemed to be without its leader.

Everything stopped as two men came in with Lorne hanging between them, his face too pale and none of his limbs working like they should. There was no blood but there was very little life left in the body of the man he was coming to see as more than just another soldier in the constant fight. It would have been better if there had been blood, Ronon realized. Blood could be replaced. Life could not.

"I need everyone out," Jennifer yelled over the din of the babbling voices, her usual nervousness evaporating as she took charge of her area. The team was dispatched to their quarters while John headed off to the conference room with two of the men to discuss what had happened. No one seemed to mind that Ronon stayed where he was, watching for any sign of life from the man that was laying on the exam table.

One breath... two breaths... three breaths. He was counting each time the man's chest rose, breathing along with him. It was leaving him panting and light-headed, though. The time between the breaths was too long and the lungs weren't taking in enough oxygen each time. Without realizing it, Ronon had started walking toward the table, his attention drawn to the man fighting for survival as the medical team rushed to get everything in place to start working on him.

"Breathe, damn you," he muttered. And Lorne did. Another shattering second with still nothing to show for it and he repeated the words while Lorne repeated the action.

John was suddenly beside him, his hand tugging at Ronon's arm. "Hey, there, Chewie. Why don't you come with me and we'll-"

"No." He was too busy concentrating to come up with a better argument, pushing off John's hand before he could move him away from Lorne.

"But you'll be in the way. Let Jennifer do her thing and we'll-"

"No."

"He can stay. Just don't get in our way," Jennifer said from behind her mask as she began to run down the list of things that Lorne needed. An oxygen mask was put in place, doing Ronon's job for him in a much better way but still he stayed, watching to make sure that it was working. Someone forced his arms through a gown and a mask over his face and then things got intense as all the staff worked as one to get Lorne into the operating suite, everyone following Jennifer's barked orders with grace and ease.

"Is he going to make it?" he asked quietly, not expecting to be heard but Jennifer looked up and he could see the tight smile in her eyes. It wasn't an answer but it was good enough for the moment.

\---

"You said we needed fifty points to go down," Ronon protested, trying to figure out what cards he had in his hand that would make the appropriate grouping. He'd come to despise this game over the last few days but it was the only thing that the two of them could play that didn't involve a long list of rules that had be discussed beforehand or a pile of money.

"That is fifty points."

"How is that fifty points?"

Lorne just laughed, a wheezy sound that was going to make him start coughing if he didn't watch himself but it was a laugh and Ronon was going to take it. Better than the beeping of the machines as they kept Lorne alive after the surgery. It had been eight hours of poking and prodding and cutting before Jennifer had finally succeeded in getting the alien entity out of Lorne's body for good. All that time it had been setting up house, it had been sucking the life out of the Major, bit by bit. Recovery would be slow going and that was where Ronon came in.

As Lorne showed him where exactly the points came from, Ronon ran through the eight places he checked every few seconds. Eyes were clear. Nose wasn't bleeding. Skin was getting pinker by the hour. Hands weren't shaking as much. Leg muscles weren't vibrating with muscle tremors. Lungs sounded clear. Voice was strong. Machine was beeping merrily, proof that everything on the inside was working properly.

The game progressed slowly as Ronon fought each and every point that Lorne laid down, mostly because he was struggling to understand his own hand and having the other man explain how he was playing was actually helping Ronon figure it out better. He thought he was doing a good job until Lorne lay down his cards on his lap.

"You don't have to play if you don't want. It's pretty clear you don't like this game much."

Ronon shrugged, relieved that he could lay down the cards and concentrate on something besides the black and red dots. "I don't mind playing it if it's what you want to play."

"And that's another thing. You don't need to entertain me. I'll be fine in here on my own."

Eyes. Nose. Skin. Hands. Legs. Lungs. Voice. Machine. "I don't mind being here."

Lorne's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever thought that I might mind you being here?"

That was definitely not something that he'd considered but Ronon wasn't going to let that sway him from his post. "I'm staying."

"Why?"

Now it was Ronon's turn to narrow his eyes. He didn't like having to explain himself. It took up time and energy better spent on other things but it wasn't like he was exactly exerting himself in other ways here. "I know what it's like to be in here all by yourself. People think that you don't want them to notice your pain but all you care about is listening to something other than the machines and the staff on the other side of the room, talking about some other poor idiot who knocked themselves up a little worse than you." He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the strain of sitting here for twenty hours of each of the last few days. "I just don't want you to be alone."

When Lorne closed his eyes, Ronon thought the conversation was over with. He began picking up the cards, figuring maybe he'd give the man some of the space he seemed to desire. When Lorne's hand covered his, he looked up in surprise.

"Thank you," Lorne said when he had his attention. "I'm pretty familiar with that feeling. I just didn't want you doing something you felt obligated to do. I'm not a charity case."

"Never said you were."

"Yeah, but I feel like it sometimes. We're not exactly best friends."

Ronon shook his head slowly, trying to find the right words. "No, we're not friends. We're... blood brothers."

"Excuse me?" Lorne look perplexed by that explanation.

He pointed up to his cheek where the skin was still raw from where Jennifer had taken out the stitches that morning. "You and I bleed a lot alike. Often and with great force. Like warriors. It's something we have in common, you and I.

"Blood brothers. Classic."

As Lorne began to laugh in the roughened new way, Ronon felt himself growing angry at the way he was being mocked. Everything he'd said was the truth yet Lorne was making him feel as if his feelings had been wrong. Eyes. Nose. Skin. Hands. Legs. Lungs. Voice. Machine. Everything was in working order so Ronon took action to show him just how wrong he was. This was not a time for mocking.

The laughter stopped when their lips touched. Lorne's eyes fluttered closed. His nose felt warm against Ronon's own. His skin wasn't blushing or changing temperature but that response might be an instant behind. His hands were gripping tighter around Ronon's hands. His legs were still. His lungs were wheezing a bit but that was to be expected since Ronon was cutting off his oxygen supply. His voice was silenced. The machines were beeping along merrily.

"Blood brothers," Ronon whispered as he pulled back far enough so that he could see the reaction from the other man better. "We are similar."

"Yeah."

It appeared that perhaps Ronon had been mistaken about that as the word hung between them. Lorne sounded neither convinced nor enthusiastic. Ronon's own heart was skipping beats and he was beginning to feel a tremor in his muscles from holding this awkward position. If he tried to stay like this much longer, he would be the one to collapse and wouldn't the medical staff find that amusing.

"You've been here the entire time I've been down, playing stupid card games and eating all my j-ello," Lorne started to say, his voice dry and sarcastic as only Lorne could be. Ronon shrunk back from him, aware that he would have to do a lot to save face now that he had read the situation wrong. He tried to pull his hands out of Lorne's grasp but he didn't let him. When he tried harder, he was allowed freedom but that was only so that Lorne's hands could run up his arms. "God, you've got great arms."

"What?"

"Your arms. I like them. I've wanted to touch them for the longest time."

He looked up, skeptical at what he was going to see. While it sounded like Lorne was flirting with him, that couldn't be right after he'd been laughed at. Ronon's ego wasn't going to allow all those other feelings to get in the way again. Not until he knew for sure what was going on.

"Like I was saying, you've been here all this time and you only decided to do this now?"

"Do what?"

Lorne's eyelids were lowered to halfway so that his eyes were darkened, beckoning. "Do this."

This time, Lorne was the one who moved forward. He was stiff as he leaned forward and it must have been putting pressure on his tender wound but he wasn't going to let anything deter him from his final resting place. This kiss was a little more intense, a melding instead of just a touch. Lorne's tongue came out to touch the seam of Ronon's lips, asking for entrance which was freely given. When it became clear that Lorne wouldn't be able to keep up the forward onslaught, Ronon put his hands on either side of the man on the bed and pressed him back until he was in a more comfortable position again. Their tongues tangled, no ground given as they settled for a tantalizing duel that left both of them breathless when they at last broke apart.

"Now this is a game that I don't mind playing," Lorne whispered, his voice different than it had been.

Instantly, Ronon was on alert for the other signs. The pupils of his eyes were dilated. His nose was still in the same place it had been before. There was a lot of skin within reach that needed to be touched so that he could explore where it was soft and where it was roughened. Hands still running up and down his arms in a way that made his stomach flip around. Both legs felt tight under his as if they were waiting to see if they could be put to use. Since Ronon had just given him all the air from his own lungs, he wasn't worried about them. That left that low growl of a voice that was sexy as hell because the machines weren't making any new noises.

"You're right," Ronon admitted. "I should have done this when you first woke up. No, I take that back. I should have done this weeks ago."

"I would have let you." Lorne smiled, the hint of a dimple drawing Ronon's attention so that he felt he needed to kiss the divot before starting in on further exploration of the area. Eyes. Nose. Skin. Hands. Legs. Lungs. And then back at the beginning to start all over again.


End file.
